With a Brown Paper Bag
by Sidura
Summary: Linked to Rituals and Chocolate Cream Pie - They say that one thing leads to another, that every story has a beginning. but really? All because Sam snuck out? aka How Dean Winchester came to the attention of Manticore
1. Chapter 1

Hello there! thought I'd finally post this little tale seeing how it has been sitting on my hard drive for a while.

I wrote it while trying to fill in the blanks of as part of a Dark Angel/Supernatural cross (Rituals and Chocolate Cream Pie) I've been trying to complete. I have posted a lot of it but the remaining parts which have decided to come pouring out of my head are sitting in big clumps on pieces of paper and various files saved on my computer in no condition to post at the moment.

With regard to this one - I had written a couple of similar little tangents starring Alec and one starring John, however, I realised I hadn't done anything similar for Dean and seeing how the big story had Alec as Dean's clone, it would might be nice to work out in my head how that actually came about - also it gave me the chance to try and write a wee'chester tale as it never occured to me to do that before.

Thanks for mayalean for looking at it - any mistakes you find are from me tinkering after she did her thing.

Hope people enjoy it.

* * *

"Help!" the little boy cried. "I need someone to help me!"

"Will you shut the hell up," his brother said through gritted teeth as he let his little brother help him into the emergency room. "I'm not dying."

The younger boy took little notice, yelling at the top of his lungs as the two of them made it to the front desk. "Please help. He's hurt and I can't…," he said between gulps of air as a large nurse came towards them.

The older boy straightened up, grimacing slightly, trying to put some weight in his injured leg. "Look, it isn't that bad. Sammy here is just being melodramatic. You know what kids are like?"

"Sure, honey," she said as she went for a wheel chair.

"Sure you do. In a little place like this, you must see it all the time. Little kids get a scratch, and then because they are making so much noise, mom and dad take them down to the doctor just to shut them up," he said, trying to hold himself up as the near hysterical other boy dried his face with the frayed edge of his shirt.

"Must really get on your nerves, people wasting your time like that, an upstanding medical professional like yourself." He hopped a little. "To be honest, it's a bit embarrassing, wouldn't be bothering you at all if it wasn't for Sammy here making such a fuss."

She looked at the boy's scratched face. "Really?"

"Yeah. Thought he was going to pass out on me. He did the whole holding-his-breath thing when I said we were going home. Almost turned blue. Though I thought he'd stopped doing that when he started kindergarten, but guess I was wrong," the boy said with a little pained grin on his face.

"Deeeaaan," Sammy said. "Please."

The older boy turned his head to answer. "Shh, will you?"

The younger boy looked at the floor, adjusting the arm he was holding a little, letting his brother shift his weight to stand in a more comfortable position. He started to cry again, "I'm sorry, I'm really, really sorry."

"I said can it!"

The nurse looked at the boys, guessing her break would just have to wait. She started to push the wheelchair towards the older boy. "Well, seeing as how you're here, let's get you checked out."

He shook his head. "Listen, all I need cold compress, and I'll be fine."

"Really?" she said. "Why don't you let me be the judge of that. So are you going to tell me what happened?"

"He got hit by a car," Sammy admitted. "It was my fault."

"Sammy, don't start, please," Dean said, trying to comfort the younger boy before turning to the nurse. "I wasn't hit. I got clipped, that's all. Should have been looking where I was going, and it wasn't Sammy's fault, lets get that straight right here and right now."

"And the driver gave you a ride."

The younger boy shook his head. "No, he didn't even stop."

"Probably didn't even realise he'd clipped me," Dean said. "It was one of those big, pimped-out 4X4's, blacked-out windows. Guy probably bought the thing and told the sales guy that he was getting it for off roading and the closest that it has come is hitting a couple of pot holes."

She looked at the younger boy. "And did you carry your brother all the way here?"

Sammy sniffed before nodding.

"Yeah, I'm betting when I get out of here I'm never going to hear the end of it," Dean said, even though there was a small twinge of pride in his voice.

The younger boy started to cry again as Dean got into the chair and was wheeled to the treatment area. "I ran across the street. If I didn't run across the street, Dean wouldn't have gotten hurt."

"Sammy, will you stop being such a drama queen, because if you don't, I swear the next place we go I'm getting Dad to buy you a dress," Dean said as he was transferred to a gurney.

"Is he going to be okay?" Sammy asked the nurse as she started to pull the curtain around the gurney.

"We're going to get the doctor to look at him."

He looked up at her with a pair of puffy eyes. "Can I stay with him?"

She shook her head as she put a hand on his shoulder and started to lead him away. "No, sweetheart, but you could help by telling us where your mommy is."

Sammy opened his mouth to say something when they heard the crash.

"Fucking Shit!" Dean screamed as he came hobbling down at high speed, grimacing each time he put weight on his leg.

"Dean!" the younger boy yelled as he ran into his brother, wrapping his arms tightly around his brother's waist as the tears began to flow.

"It's okay, Sammy. It's going to be okay," Dean said, trying to calm his brother down.

The little boy continued to sob, burying his head in his brother's chest. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm really sorry."

"It's okay. Let's get out of here," Dean said, trying to loosen Sammy's grip around him.

"No you don't, young man!" the nurse said, using that tone she usually reserved for the medical students who were overstepping their mark.

Dean turned to see an orderly coming towards him. He swallowed. Turning back to the nurse, he said, "Don't you young man me, lady."

She moved to split the two boys apart as did the orderly causing the younger boy to tighten his grip to the point where he was obviously causing the older boy pain.

She sighed as she decided to change tact. Squatting down beside the younger boy, she said, "Come on, sweetheart. You've got to let go. We can't look at your brother if you're stuck to him."

The older boy swatted her hand away. "Listen, lady, he stays with me."

She nodded causing the orderly to step away as Dean put an arm around his brother, pulling Sammy closer to him, although it did result in Sammy loosening his grip.

Dean looked her in the eye. "No Doctor is going to touch me unless he stays."

"That isn't how this works, son," the orderly said.

Dean turned his head to reply, "I ain't your son, bub."

"Your little brother will be fine, I'll make sure of it," the nurse promised, "but we have got to check you out."

He gave her a knowing smile. "That's sweet and all, but lady, I don't know you from bupkiss. For all I know you're an axe murderer or something. Sammy here is my responsibility, and he stays with me, and don't you think about trying something or trust me, you'll be sorry."

"Dean?" came a plaintive cry from Sammy as he looked up at his brother, who was currently staring down the nurse.

"You need to be looked at," she said.

"Well, you can do that while Sammy watches, because I'm not going anywhere without him."

"Okay," she replied in a patronising tone.

"Don't okay me. I know how this works. I'm not doing anything violent. I ain't acting in a way that endangers anybody else or myself, so you can't knock me out unless I say you can."

"Son, who told you that?"

"Like I told lurch there, I ain't your son," Dean said. For all the bravado he was trying to display she could see the fear in his eyes. He swallowed as he assessed the situation. "I get you guys are busy and don't really need us to cause a fuss, but he's my brother and I'm supposed to take care of him. He's used to that. He's not used to being looked after by strangers, and I don't want him more scared than he already is."

She shook her head. "You look after him? You're a minor."

"Yeah I look after him. I'm eighteen!"

The nurse noted the look on the younger boy's face at his brother's statement, not that it was surprising.

"Eighteen?" she asked the kid in front of her.

Dean shrugged. "What can I say? I'm overdue on the growth spurt."

"Overdue?" she said sarcastically as the younger boy started to squeeze his brother again.

Dean stood there, standing in stony silence for a second, knowing his bluff had obviously been called. "Sixteen."

"Sixteen?" she crossed her arms. "And I'm gonna end up on Baywatch."

He bit his lip, and in a quiet voice, "Fifteen."

"Fifteen?"

Dean glared at her. "I turned fifteen last month!"

"Okay, that I can believe," she said, "but that means you're a minor."

"Yeah, I'm a minor, so you have to call someone to come down here to tell you what you can and can't do to me and that takes time," he argued. "Trust me, sister, calling my Dad is going to be easier in the long run for everybody rather than you calling someone else, and it'll be quicker, too."

"So there is someone at home?" she asked.

Dean shook his head. "Dad's... at work, but you can call him."

"Really?" She looked at the two boys. Their clothes looked a little too threadbare for her liking, although neither one looked malnourished, although from the younger boy's reaction she guessed that the older boy was responsible for that. As for any other outward signs of neglect, she couldn't tell even though the older boy was bruised, but that could have been from his recent accident.

"Did you bother to think to ask?" Dean asked caustically.

She looked away from the boy's accusing glare. Truth was, like most kids that ended up in the emergency room, she had automatically suspected the worst.

"You are going to do what you are going to do, but you are going to have to call our Dad anyway. so you might as well do it now, and when he gets here we'll cooperate, I promise, but until then Sammy here doesn't go out of my sight," Dean said, before pouting and giving her a look that was guaranteed to melt her heart. "Just let him stay with me until my Dad gets here, please?"

* * *

John Winchester came running into the hospital waiting area, stopping as soon as he got through the door, scanning the crowd in the hope of seeing his children.

The message he had gotten was brief and hadn't made much sense, but he had gotten the name of the hospital and that the boys were there - damn cell phone. He hated the damn thing; not to mention how much it cost, but he had given up the argument about carrying one since Sammy had found out. It had become obvious after five minutes into that discussion that Sammy was never going to be like his brother and take it on faith that their Dad was going to always come strolling back through the door after a hunt.

He finally got the attention of the desk clerk. "Excuse me, I'm looking for my sons."

* * *

"Dad, I don't need to stay here. I'm fine," Dean protested as the resident explained that Dean may need to stay in for observation.

Sam looked up at his father. "I'm sorry. I wanted to see what it was and Dean said no, so I snuck out, and he had to come running after me. It's my fault."

"Sam, they aren't keeping your brother as a punishment, and as for you sneaking out, I'll talk to you about that later," John said before turning to the ER resident. "Are you sure he needs to be admitted? It was obviously an accident."

"We're not saying it wasn't, and I do understand why your son said he was older than he is," the doctor explained. "Moving to a new town to start over after loosing everything can be a frightening prospect for an adult, let alone a child."

"Losing their mother has been hard on them," John replied, sticking to the half truth that Dean had told the nursing staff before he had arrived.

The doctor took a look at the two boys before turning back to their father. "I'm sorry for your loss, and I understand why you would want to start over somewhere else, but your son should not be responsible for his brother after school while you try to find regular work."

"Well do you want to pay for child care, bub? And I'm fifteen, for crying out loud, and Sam is ten and he'll be eleven in a couple of months. It isn't like we need someone to change our diapers. If I was a girl with a babysitting job, would you be acting like this?" Dean asked the resident sarcastically. "'Cause I'm guessing we wouldn't be having this conversation, which personally I find more than a little sexist. Can't a guy my age be a little new age and try and help out a little around the house without some sort of abuse being involved?"

"Dean," John muttered quietly as he ran a palm over his tired face.

The resident looked at the boy. "That wasn't what I meant. Just that your father should have some regular plan for the care and you and your brother, instead of leaving the two of you on your own."

"Wouldn't have mattered if my dad was home when we got home from school or not. I got clipped by a car that didn't stop! Could have happened just as easily if I had been hanging out with those morons that go to that dump that this town calls a school. Wait, can I sue the dick that clipped me? I'm sure that the plates were local."

"Dean," John said curtly.

"Seriously, come to Colorado and get mowed down by an idiot that can't drive," Dean said to the resident.

"That's enough!" John said firmly.

Dean bowed his head. "Yes, sir."

John turned to the resident. "You said he was okay, but you still want him in for observation. Why? Unless there is something else wrong?"

"All the tests we ran came out okay as far as I know," the doctor said as he started to check his notes. "Actually I'm not sure why they want to keep him in."

Dean's face lit up. "So we can go?"

"Ah, there it is," the doctor said as he read the file, "the knee."

"His knee?" John asked.

"Yes his knee," the doctor said with a nod. "Looks like they want to run some more tests to make sure that the damage isn't permanent as well as confirming that, even though there are no signs of concussion, that we haven't missed any head trauma."

Dean swallowed. "Permanent damage?"

"Head trauma?" Sam Winchester asked quietly as he moved to hold on to his brother's hand.

The resident smiled. "Don't worry. From the tests so far, it just looks like you need to rest it."

"Dude, it'll be okay," John said reassuringly as he followed the doctor out into the hall.

"Doctor?"

The resident smiled. "Don't worry, Mr. Winchester. Your son is fine."

"Then why keep him in?"

"We just want to make sure that the inflammation to his knee isn't masking any other problems."

"And you need to keep him here to do that?"

"No, to be honest, we don't," the resident admitted. "But don't worry, sir. With him here we can check his knee as soon as the swelling goes down - probably have him out of here first thing.

"And if there is something wrong with his knee?"

"Then we can get started with any treatments right away. Not that I think there is anything."

John took a breath. "If you're sure there is nothing wrong, then we'll be going. I'll bring him back if there is."

"Sir?" the doctor asked, causing John to guess that the man was getting suspicious.

"It's just… well, I can't afford it," John said quietly, trying to think on his feet. "The insurance… on the house, on my wife's death… they didn't pay out. I haven't told the boys."

"Look if money is the problem, don't worry."

"Excuse me?" John asked cautiously.

"Your son's bills have been taken care of."

"How? Who?"

"I'm not sure," the doctor admitted before turning to walk away.

John grabbed the doctor's arm. "Hey, if someone is paying the bills, I want to know who is paying them."

"I can't really say."

"Who?"

The doctor sighed. "I can't be sure, but you're new in town, so you probably wouldn't know, but from your son's description of the car that hit him, I'd say it was probably the owner of the local plant that is involved."

"What?"

"The plant that employs the majority of the county. I'd say its owner is trying to clean up his son's messes."

"His son's got an SUV like Dean described?" John asked, to which the doctor nodded.

"Dean is going to get the best care. That place has some big contracts with some important people including the federal government, he's in with the authorities, so even if you create some noise, it won't do any good. The guy's got enough pull to get the some large medical foundation to send down some of it doctors from time to time to train us hicks on the latest techniques. We got a load of them in last week, so I'd say that they'd be looking after your son."

John looked at him suspiciously. "So this guy is just covering his ass?"

"Look, I'm not condoning it, but if our local Lord and Master is trying to cover up one of Junior's little accidents, then I say milk the guy for as much free treatment as you can get. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised to find that any bills you run up while your boy is in here don't mysteriously get paid."

* * *

The children's floor smelled of antiseptic and was garishly decorated with bright flowers and pictures of cartoon characters.

Sam squeezed his father's hand as Dean settled in his room.

"Why do I have to stay here, and on the kid's floor, too?" Dean asked his father. "My knee is fine."

John sighed as Sam sat on the bed beside his brother. "You're staying as you and your brother couldn't do as you were told."

Sam held his head in shame. "I'm sorry, Dad, I thought it was something."

"Well, it wasn't. It was a damn cat with a tin can tied to its tail," Dean replied. "I told you that."

"But with the howling and everything, it sounded like one of the things described in the books," Sam said his in his defence.

"We'll talk about that when we get back to the motel," John said as he ran a hand over his face. That had been another thing. Since Sam had found out the truth, the boy had been trying to read everything he could get his little hands on just to get a handle on what his father was looking for when John disappeared into the night.

John had to admit Sam's reaction saddened him, not the boy's need for John to carry that damn cell phone, but the loss of Sam's innocence. John already had one son who had lost his childhood due to his need to end the thing that had killed Mary. Now Sam seemed to now be hurtling down the path that John had dragged Dean down.

John could remember the day it happened, the day he watched the last remnants of Mary's little boy dying in Dean's eyes - the day Dean had been told to look after Sammy, lock the motel door, shoot anything that tried to force its way in, and he was to call Pastor Jim if his father didn't return in three days.

"But, Dad, can't I come too?" Dean asked.

"One night," John said. "Just to be sure."

Dean pouted. "Yes sir."

John raised an eyebrow. "And Dean. Play along but…"

"Don't answer any questions," Dean said, finishing his father's sentence.

"That's right, dude, keep to the story and we'll see you first thing," John said with a smile on his face.

"But I can call if there is anything?"

John nodded, "Sure son, but that doesn't mean you call just to get out of here, you understand?"

"Yes, sir," Dean replied, his heart heavy as his father and brother made the move to leave him in the hospital room for the night.

* * *

John sat Sam down in the chairs at the waiting area as he went to the nurse's station to make sure that they had contact details just in case they needed to get a hold of him in the night.

The doctor at the desk didn't seem to take any notice, just standing there flipping through charts, his silver tipped cane balancing against his leg. John stood there for a second, waiting for a response from the white haired man.

"Excuse me?" John said, trying to get the man to turn round.

"The nurse will be with you in a moment," came the curt response, the doctor not looking up from the pages in front of him.

"You know where one is?" John asked, in an irritated tone which caused the doctor to look up from his work for a moment.

"I'm certain that one will be over in a moment."

"Right," John said sarcastically as one of the nurses made her way over to them, though she seemed to decide to deal with the doctor first.

"Is this all we have on this child?" he asked.

The nurse nodded. "Yes, doctor. That was everything sent up from the ER."

The doctor inhaled loudly. "The test results aren't here. Where are they?"

"Probably still at the lab, doctor," the nurse replied as John watched on.

"If we are being 'requested' to treat this child, I want a full work up, a proper one, not some third-year medical student's opinion of what is necessary."

"Excuse me, doctor?" the nurse asked, confused.

"The same as the rest, a proper work up. Otherwise treating him will be a waste of my time. Where is the boy anyway?" came the reply from the white haired man.

"Room 452," the nurse replied, causing John's ears to perk up at the mention of the room he had just left Dean in.

"That would be my son you're talking about, then," John said to the obviously pissed-off doctor, which caused the man to finally turn to face him.

"Your son?" the doctor asked.

"Yes, my son," John said with a nod.

"I'm sorry you had to hear this, but please be assured that your son will receive the best of care."

"No matter what your personal feelings are about treating him?" John asked sarcastically.

The doctor exhaled loudly. "I deserve that for acting unprofessionally. From the information I have been given it appears that your son's time here will be purely observational and that will have nothing to do with how I feel."

"I hope that means he doesn't 'waste' too much of your time," John said.

"I'm sorry Mr…?"

"I didn't give you my name," John said. "You have my son's file. Did you bother to read it? It has his name in it or did you just flip through the pages to look important while you bitch to the nursing staff after my son was brought up here?"

"Actually, I was more interested in the limited testing regime that was performed before he was sent up from the ER rather than what he was called. I don't appreciate being informed that anyone who is to be placed under my care is not going to be able to receive the full attention of my team because of a lack of information. Whatever the circumstances."

"So, if it was your choice, you wouldn't be treating him."

"Please don't take this the wrong way, but no. My work here usually does not involve me receiving patients because someone has received a phone call…"

"From a rich guy who owns a couple of factories whose kid may or may not have been stupid enough to drive away from an accident?"

The Doctor nodded. "Please take my personal assurance that even though that is the case, your son will receive the same attention as any of the other patients I am working with here."

John scratched his nose. "The doctor downstairs said your team was with some foundation? What are you doing here?"

"Sir, I hope you can understand that I can't discuss my work with anyone."

"Excuse me, but I'm not having anyone test anything on my son."

The doctor smiled. "No sir, we aren't using the population here as guinea pigs for any new procedures or drugs. Your son will not be receiving any treatment that hasn't been tried or tested before."

"Right. Your word on that?"

"Yes, he will not receive any treatment that has not been signed off on by you. However, I hope you understand, if we run a few more tests to assess his current condition, rather than having to rely on what the ER here considers to be a full workup. In fact that is what part of my foundation's work here pertains to testing; not only are we are trying to teach the local staff, but we are also trying to provide better testing protocols to make sure nothing is missed when it comes to diagnosis and treatment."

John stood there, not too sure if he liked the idea of people poking and prodding his son, though the thought of something being missed because someone downstairs hadn't ticketed the right request box on the lab form was something he didn't want to think about. After a second, John nodded.

"Thank you," the doctor said.

"But what is your name?" John asked as the nurse came over to them again to disturb them.

"Doctor, you wanted to know the second he got here," a nurse said, interrupting them.

The doctor nodded, picked up his cane and turned to John. "I'm sorry, but I have a very urgent meeting."

John took a breath as he watched the man wander down the hall, feeling slightly uneasy that the man had walked away without giving him a name.

* * *

The man was sitting in the office going through the various files on the desk.

"Excuse me, I don't believe you have the authority to look through those," the doctor said, though it didn't stop his visitor from continuing what he was doing.

"You Sandeman?" came the response, the visitor not looking up through the pile of papers.

"Yes, and am I right in thinking that you are Major Lydecker?"

An ID was abruptly tossed across the table to be picked up by the doctor. "I wasn't expecting you so soon."

"Why?" Lydecker asked. "You have something you need to hide?"

Dr. Sandeman shook his head. "No, it is just I would have liked a little more time to be prepared. Some of the test results you requested won't be ready for another couple of days."

"Not to mention the fact you are still a couple of subjects short?" Lydecker replied causing Sandeman to tense.

"We are still in the process of identifying suitable candidates."

"Can I ask why that is?" Lydecker asked. "The timetable you set stated you'd be at the primary manipulation phase by now. Not still picking source material."

"And we've not fallen behind on that as my staff have already started lab work on the material we have Major, even if we are still searching for suitable sources of template DNA to fill the quota the military 'requested'," Sandeman sighed as pulled out a chair. "Our subjects here aren't military personnel; we simply can't demand they comply to everything we ask without drawing attention. The same can be said for the advanced testing, we have been sending samples back to Gillette or do you want us to explain to the hospital staff, not to mention t,he subjects in question, why we're performing unnecessary genetic testing on a small subset of patients?"

Lydecker put down the file he had been reading. He pursed his lips in thought for a second. "A few days, you said."

"Yes, and then we should be done here."

Lydecker nodded. "Good. You know what that means, Doctor Sandeman."

"I'm not too sure."

"That will give you plenty of time to explain."

Sandeman knotted his brow. "Explain what?"

"Everything in your files."


	2. Chapter 2

Here we go another part - though think I should put a little not to say that Alec or Max will not be putting in a physical appearance as this is the story of how and why Dean's DNA got picked up by Manticore. Hope that doesn't make anyone who does decide to read this turn away or those who do read it won't be too disappointed as I am warning you in advance about this.

* * *

Dean Winchester was bored. It had gone past ten and he had nothing to do, and for the life of him he could get to sleep, not without the sound of someone else breathing in the bed next to him.

Christ, he had been sharing a room with Sammy for too damn long.

He hobbled down the corridor to see if he could find a TV or someone to talk to whom he could have an actual conversation with or wouldn't just pat him on the head and tell him to go back to his room, though he doubted he'd find anyone like that at this time of night in kiddy town.

"Hello?" he said as he found an open door which was lit with the glow of a flickering TV.

"Yeah?" came the response.

Dean inched into the room. There was a girl lying on the bed flicking through various channels.

"You got a TV?" Dean asked. "That sucks."

"Excuse me," she said with a casual turn of her head which allowed her to get a slightly better look at him.

"Not for you obviously," Dean said, trying to explain his remark. "The one in my room is broken."

She shrugged. "Not my room."

Dean smiled as he started to make his way over to the chair closest to the door. "Okay, you won't mind if I join you, then."

She started to channel surf again. "No skin off my nose."

"I'm Dean by the way," he said as he tried to get comfortable.

"Don't care," she replied, not taking her eyes off of the screen. After a second, "Gracie."

"Okay… Gracie. What are you in for?"

"Who says I'm in for anything?"

Dean quickly looked around the room. He didn't see anyone else or to be honest anything that said the room was occupied other than the body of the teenage girl who was currently working her way through the limited selection of channels on the TV. "What, did you decide to break into the pediatric wing of a hospital just to watch TV?"

"Did I ask for your opinion?"

"No," Dean replied. "Just giving it for free. Is that Creep Show you just passed?"

She flicked back a few channels. "Nope, Tales from the Crypt."

"Okay," he said as she seemed to settle on that as her viewing choice. "So if you aren't a 'prisoner,' why are you here?"

"Visiting."

He took another look around the room. There was definitely no one staying there. "You take a wrong turn or something?"

"Parents are doing the codling thing. Thought I'd leave them to it," came the reply. "Mom's the local minister, so they got dispensation to stay after visiting hours are up."

"Brother or sister?"

"Brother, if it is any of your business," Gracie said curtly. "You a captive, then?"

"For the night, hopefully."

"Right."

Dean nodded, and the two teenagers settled in for a quiet night of watching TV.

* * *

"Are these all the potential donors?" Lydecker asked.

"As I said, we are still…."

"Yes identifying material, but what about the gaps in the intel you've got on the ones you've already found?"

"Not all the test results are not back yet," Sandeman explained. "That is why there are some lapses in their files. Sending the samples back to Gilette takes time."

"Right," Lydecker replied.

"Though, with the information we do have, you should be able to see we have a mix of individuals that will give us all the materials we need to start the work on the X-5's," Sandeman said, leaning across the desk. "Or have you been sent here with some excuse for another delay? You know, even after we collect all the materials we need, we are still years away from live births as it is and these interruptions do not help. The military claim they want production to begin as quickly as possible but then they send men like you down here to take up my time, which I can be using more productively or is it this a prelude to another round of 'lets discuss the budget?"

"No, it isn't that," Lydecker said, "but there will be oversight Doctor. There is not going to be any repeats of the X-2's."

"I quite agree, and after that disaster, it was agreed that any selection of genetic material would be left in my hands and my team's hands and not be left to some military committee."

"Not all of it is your choice," Lydecker retorted.

Sandeman clenched his jaw. "No, it hasn't been. But even the material we have been directed to consider has to meet MY standards this time. Anything less is going to be a waste of your, mine and the project's time."

"We can agree on that, however, genetic suitability or not, you are going to explain these," he said throwing down the files.

"Excuse me?"

"We are going to go through every choice here, every possible donor and you are going to tell me why did you picked them."

* * *

"Hi Dean," John said as he came into the room and Sam jumped on the bed.

"Can I get out of here yet?" Dean asked.

"Doctor been in yet?" John replied.

Dean shook his head. "No, just a nurse. She took some blood and made me do a stupid test thing."

"Test?" Sam asked as he started tucking into his brother's lunch.

Dean nodded. "It's like I'm stuck in school, dude."

"They gave you a school test?" John asked.

"Yes, sir. She said it was to show if my brain had suffered something - short term damage that wouldn't have been picked up by them shining that stupid flashlight in my face last night."

John peered at his son. "Nothing else? Just a test?"

"Wasn't even that hard - couple of math questions and what shape fit in the box. Remember this word and how it fits in a sentence sort of stuff and they had a guy in watching me as I did it taking notes."

"That seems stupid," Sam said, interrupting.

"Someone was taking notes?" John asked suspiciously as he had half a mind to scoop the boy out of the bed at that point. "Did he say anything to you?"

"No. Didn't even ask me questions. Just watched me take the test thing and talk to a couple of nurses who came in and out including the one I asked about the stupid exam."

"What did she say?" John asked.

"She said they gave me it to see if I could retain information at the cognitive level because, if my brain had received a bump, it might have some short term problems doing that."

"Anything else?"

"Not really. Said that she couldn't see any problems, but different bits of the brain do different things. That's why she made me do lots of questions and stuff, asked me how I liked school. But the guy with the note pad – nothing. Just left when she did. But he wasn't a social worker. Too well dressed for it."

"Wait here," John said, waking into the hall to find someone.

"Excuse me," he said, finding a nurse. "My son said you gave him a math test."

The nurse smiled. "Oh yes, it was one of the tests requested."

"Why? What does how he is doing in school help you?" John asked.

The nurse peered at him. "The doctors here requested it. Your son was hit by a car, wasn't he?"

"Yes, he was, so how does that tie in how he does in math and why was someone in there taking notes about him."

The nurse looked from left to right, making sure that no one else was about. "Okay, I don't think I should say this, because even though he is getting the regular treatments, the testing they are doing is a little out of the ordinary. That is why there was someone in there taking notes. He wasn't really watching your son, but how your son took to the test we gave him."

"What?"

"No, it's nothing bad, honestly. I'd be worried about what they were doing if it wasn't for the fact is the only invasive sampling they were asking for was blood and tissue samples. It is just some of the rest of it isn't really regular practice, like that test. But I think the idea of those things that your son was made to do is to stop expensive testing or that is what those city docs are trying to prove."

"So you gave him a school test?"

"With head trauma, if we can't see concussion and there is no drop in the results of the test when we make him repeat it coupled with the CT that has been ordered for this afternoon, it means that there is no need to worry about any hidden brain injury."

"So you are just being thorough?"

The nurse nodded. "I think the idea is in the future that doctors might be able to target where to concentrate testing. Though to be honest I'm not too sure."

"So giving him a math test now means that they are less likely to prod his head?"

The nurse nodded. "Or if they have to they have a better idea where exactly to start looking even if there is any change as different parts of the brain is responsible for things, like talking is one part and dreaming another."

John bit his lip. The less chance of anything wrong with Dean been missed through the use of a simple math test sounded like a good idea. Best deal with this now than possibly risk his son's health and well being due to some time bomb brain bleed rearing its ugly head in some motel room in the middle of nowhere.

"Those visiting doctors are trying it out with lots of the patients here. I think it's their latest thing - cuts down on expensive tests and still makes sure that the patient gets what they need," the nurse explained.

"So it's a trade off. Your guys get training in this and those other doctors get to see if their idea works?"

The nurse nodded. "If it works, I'm guessing the HMO's will jump on it, even if the foundation just reports a summary of preliminary positive findings. Anything to stop you getting a CT scan if you need it. But as I said, none of the tests they are requesting on patients is invasive, except for the blood and tissue samples, and none of them have any real effect on your son, except…"

"Except what?"

"Thinking about it, they are requesting more than we'd usually do. In fact, they are asking for more blood samples on a whole load of patients we have here."

"So it isn't just Dean?"

The nurse shook her head. "No, but those city docs haven't done anything I'd say was unethical."

"So you're not worried?" John asked cagily.

"I don't think so. The actual treatment is routine," she said before smiling, "and what are they going to do with a couple of more vials of your son's blood - clone him?"

* * *

"Dad, do I have to stay?" Dean begged as John made a move to leave.

"Dean, the nurse said they'd probably need to check out your knee this afternoon. Inflammation hasn't gone down enough yet."

Dean pouted. "Don't want to stay."

"I know, dude," John said, "but think how you'd feel if something was wrong."

"But you said we would be going soon," Dean begged.

"It can wait," John said firmly. "I'll call Bobby. He can deal with it."

"Why, Dad? You said this time I could go along," Dean whined, sounding younger than his fifteen years.

"Because your knee is still swollen," John answered.

"I got hit by an SUV - it isn't going to be happy Dad!"

"Dean Winchester!" John snapped, causing his oldest son to drop his head and Sam to turn to his brother with the spoon of chocolate pudding still in mouth.

"Sorry, sir," Dean said quietly.

John sighed, putting a hand on Dean's shoulder. "Dean-O, I know you don't want to be here, but I'm not going to risk you being less than one hundred percent. You got me?"

Dean nodded.

"Next time, you can come, okay?" John said. "But let them test out your knee, okay?"

"Yes, sir."

"They haven't asked you any questions apart from that test thing they gave you?"

Dean shook his head, "No, sir. Haven't even asked me anything about the car that hit me or sicced the hospital social worker on me or anything. They've pretty much left me alone. Just the nurse this morning; she said that once the swelling went down, I'd get some more tests."

"Anything in particular?"

"Nothing invasive, she said - just some x-rays, a CT scan, and they took some blood and something to do with sound waves."

"Probably an ultrasound to see if there is any soft tissue damage." .

"Don't they do something like that for pregnant girls?" Sam said with a grin on his face.

"What?" Dean asked. He turned to his father. "Dad?"

"They think you're a pregnant girl!" Sam said in a sing song voice.

"Sam, shut up."

"Dean's having a baby, Dean's having a baby," Sammy sang with a grin on his face as the orderly came in to the room to take away the food tray.

"Sammy, shut up!" Dean said through clenched teeth.

"No way! They think you're a girl."

"Sammy, so help me," Dean said moving as fast as he could across the bed to grab hold of his brother, though Sam easily got out of the way.

"Dad, please," Dean begged his father as Sam continued to dance around the room crowing at the top of his lungs that his brother was a girl.

John ran a hand over his face. "Boys, behave, now!"

The orderly smiled as he watched the two boys obey their father. He picked up the plastic pudding spoon from the tray in a gloved hand, placing it in a plastic bag before writing on it 'S. Winchester'.


	3. Chapter 3

Hello there - me again with the next bit, to those of you have reviewed my little tale thankyou!

Also if this doesn't make sense in this bit let me know, I got a habit of throwing things at a page and hoping they make sense and i forget other people's brain work more straight forwardly than mine.

* * *

So this one?" Lydecker said, pushing the file across the table.

"We went over this last night."

"And we'll go over it again until I'm satisfied," Lydecker said firmly. "This one."

Sandeman looked at the file. "Female, twenty-two. Asian, college graduate. She's physiologically healthy. Her blood workup and family history shows no genetic problems. IQ in the high 140's."

"Family background?"

"Major Lydecker, we have been through this," Sandeman said, to which Lydecker peered at him.

Sandeman sighed, "Nothing that would affect our work."

"Psychological profile?"

"The donor's profile shows that she'd appear to be willing to follow orders."

Lydecker narrowed his gaze. "This series isn't supposed to follow orders. They are supposed to be in command."

"What I meant was that her profile suggests that, if you gave her an objective, then she would follow it to the conclusion."

"So what you are saying is that she'll be psychologically malleable."

Sandeman nodded. "Exactly as you wanted."

"What about this one?" Lydecker asked, handing over another file.

"A twenty-three-year-old male" Sandeman said, smiling at the file. "I thought you would approve of this one. He's one of you."

"What?"

"Spent some time in the service, Gulf veteran," Sandeman replied.

Lydecker looked at the picture of the blonde-haired, blue-eyed soldier.

"No offence, doctor, but we are not breeding a master race here," Lydecker retorted, looking over the file.

"Is this another argument over fertility?" Sandeman asked.

"Just making a comment. You don't have to leave them with the ability to breed."

Sandeman clenched his jaw. "Major, as I have explained before, too much tampering at the genetic level may cause traits you don't want to appear."

"And you aren't curious to see what will happen if one or two of your 'projects' decide to reproduce."

Sandeman narrowed his gaze. "As a scientist, I would be lying if I said no."

"Not very ethical of you, is it?"

"We are creating a subspecies of the human race, here. I believe ethics went out the window the second the senate committee signed off on the funding for Manitcore."

"Indeed, but that doesn't answer our problem."

Sandeman sighed, "There is no guarantee that the produced units will or will not be fertile. However, if it does become a problem, I'm sure your superiors will have other means of control in mind."

Lydecker nodded. "Indeed."

"Can we get back to this, or do you want to debate this some more?"

Lydecker picked up the file again. "So this one."

"I have high hopes for this one. Good genetics, psychologically inclined to lead, high IQ, and from what has been observed, the young man is highly resourceful. Also a proven track record in combat."

"Family?"

"Very apple pie."

"That wasn't what I meant."

Sandeman nodded, "No genetic or psychological problems. Mother is a local church leader, father is a plant supervisor in this town. Siblings also check out so far."

"How did you get your hands on this one?"

"Plant accident – saving a colleague."

"Much damage?"

Sandeman smiled. "No."

"What happened?"

"High-pressure riveting accident. New start being cocky," Sandeman explained, pointing at the file. "This young man pushed someone else out of the way, though he received a superficial injury. Which was fortunate for us."

Lydecker nodded.

* * *

Dean found himself alone with the little kids for the most of the rest of the day, the doctors again deciding that his knee was still too swollen to assess long-term damage, though at least they had decided that his brain was not going to explode. However, after the amount of time he had spent down in the basement inside the tomb of a scanner, he was pretty sure that the amount of radiation he had been exposed to in the last few days exceeded the recommended dosage for the whole lifetime of the population of the state of Colorado let alone the bupkissville of a town he was currently being held 'prisoner' in; so the thought of his brain exploding was the least of his worries. Going through a sudden clothing crisis while hulking out was more likely at this point Dean thought.

Actually, if he didn't get out of the kiddie prison soon the non toxic finger paint that had just been taking away from the four year old 'interior designer' was going to find a new use, but only if the gift shop downstairs had oversized purple shorts that could easily find there way into his possession. Hey he was bored!

"Hey, freakazoid, you still here?" she yelled down the corridor as he prowled around the outside of his room after Sam and his dad had left.

Dean turned to look at her. She was standing in the doorway of the empty room they had been watching TV in the night before.

"Thought you said you were getting out today."

Dean shrugged. "What can I say? They found the tunnel I was digging and I can't get my hands on the motorbike I need to jump the fence until tomorrow."

"You sure you're not here because you overdosed on The Great Escape?" Gracie asked.

Dean pouted. "Don't ever dis Steve McQueen."

"Let me guess - it's because he's so cool," she said mockingly as Dean hobbled up the corridor to join her.

"Look, let's not get into this argument," Dean said with a smile on his face.

"Touchy, aren't we?" Gracie asked sarcastically.

"I'm stuck here against my will," Dean replied. "What are you doing here?"

"Big bro is still stuck upstairs. Decided to get a magazine seeing as how my mom has swung it that she can stay by his bedside, though I think Adam wishes she'd just go home."

"And that means you are stuck here?"

Gracie shrugged. "Not much to do at home, not in this pokey little town. Not even worth your time in trying to have some fun."

Dean nodded. "Hearing you."

"Anyway, spoil my reputation as the town angel," she said with a wry smile on her face.

"Okay, then," Dean said cautiously, he knew the type, seen enough of them in the many towns he'd been through.

The quiet kid, the clever kid, the one who didn't make too much of an impression though you knew they were there. They were the ones who the second they got to college or out of whatever town they were in would be at every party, every demo, everything that could be remotely interesting, but for right now they'd keep their nose clean, bide their time because they weren't going to damage any chance they had in escaping from small town life.

"Anyway, got this," she said, holding up the magazine.

Dean smiled. "You got the TV guide?"

"If it will stop your bellyaching about all the channel surfing, I'd say it was worth the price."

"You bought it?" Dean asked, to which she shook her head.

"Swiped it from some old guy upstairs. He was out cold. We'll get it back to him later."

"Fine," Dean said, getting settled in the chair he had occupied the night before.

They sat there for about half an hour in comfortable silence until Dean decided to ask, "Gracie, you never said what your brother was in for."

"Idiot got himself shot," came the reply.

"Is he okay?" Dean asked cautiously.

"Sure he is. Big lug will be fine."

"They know who shot him?" Dean asked.

Gracie raised an eyebrow. "Oh, they know."

"Really?"

"Yeah," she said knowingly. "I got to be the sister to the only idiot who could get himself shot in a friendly fire incident in peace time that involved a raccoon."

"A raccoon?" Dean asked.

Gracie nodded, "Comes back from the gulf without a scratch on him, then gets out of the service, not even a broken nail. So Dad gets Adam a job at the plant until he figures out what he wants, you know? Then last week some guy gets so spooked by this raccoon that's got onto the plant floor that he loses control of the high-pressure rivet gun he's using. Not too sure how though. But Adam caught one."

"Jesus, those things can do some real damage."

"Lucky he caught it in the ass, then."

Dean smiled. "Really?"

"Well, he said it was his leg, but personally I think he's just too embarrassed to tell Mom where he really got it," she replied, getting comfortable on the bed. "I know what you're in for, but what happened?"

"Little brother decided to play hero," Dean said, causing her to look at him. "Long and short of it, got clipped by an SUV running a red light."

"Clipped by a truck?"

Dean nodded. "Sounds about right."

She turned to look at the screen. "That was stupid."

"You're telling me," Dean said with a sigh. "What's on?"

"Butch and Sundance?"

"Cool!" Dean said with a smile on his face.

* * *

Sandeman opened his office door. It had been a long day and all he wanted was to finish his paperwork and get some rest. Unfortunately Lydecker was sitting at the desk, waiting for him again.

"Major?"

"Doctor," came the reply as Lydecker smiled.

Sandeman sighed. "What now?"

"You know what now."

"We have been over this. The responses you have already will be the same as anything I tell you today."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"What about this one?" Lydecker threw a file across the table. "The file is less complete than the others."

"Well that would be because he was only recently admitted."

"Why him?" Lydecker asked. "Why this fifteen-year-old? Or are you just throwing in anyone now to fill the quota?"

"You tell me," Sandeman said with a smile on his face. "Your people ordered me to treat him, is there any reason we shouldn't be considering him as potential source material?"

Lydecker took a breath. "The boy from the accident?"

Sandeman nodded. "I understand that covering up unsavoury incidents is usually more in your keeping than mine."

Lydecker peered at Sandeman. "Really? From what I have read, your reasons for being involved in this project can't be described as patriotic."

"Call it scientific curiosity," came the quick reply.

"Curiosity?"

"Major Lydecker, I am in no doubt that this and future administrations, not to mention the political and religious right, will look less than favourably on any attempts to bring large scale genetic engineering to the mainstream. If getting in bed with the devil or the military is the only way I can further my work, which in turn may lead to a way to safeguard the future of mankind, I will."

"Safeguard mankind?" Lydecker asked his interest peaked.

"It is a turn of phrase. You must know there are many people suffering from conditions who look to genetic engineering as a possible cure."

"Indeed," Lydecker said with a nod before turning back to the file. "If you weren't interested in this child in the first place, why now?"

"He is here and if you want this phase of the project to end as soon as possible, wouldn't it be sensible to ensure that we have exhausted all the possibilities among the patients here before we leave; even if I am being forced to treat some of them?" Sandeman asked causing Lydecker to glare at him. "Also this boy's IQ is high, so is his pain tolerance. He is actively avoiding taking the painkillers he is being given, but is still able to comply with any physical tests we have so far been able to perform."

"So?"

"He doesn't trust us, though he is willing to comply with any requests he is given. In fact, he won't take the pills unless his father is in the room and from our observations the only time the boy tells the truth is when his father and brother are around. Though he does seem to be a hit with the nursing staff, can turn on the charm when he wants to, though from what they say, he doesn't realise he is doing it."

"Good social skills?""

"May show a psychological predisposition to loyalty, empathy, as well as a malleability you may want to exploit."

"If that transfers to any units his genetic code is used to create."

"Indeed," Sandeman said with a nod of the head.

"Genetics?"

"Nothing so far that shows any abnormalities."

"Family history?"

"Ah, that has been harder to determine. Father and brother only, father is understandably skittish so I'm not too sure we are going to get clean samples from them."

"Clean samples?"

"We might have been able to 'encourage' the father to provide a blood donation, like the family members of other subjects if his son had been admitted through normal channels. But he is unlikely to comply now, let alone give us access to the records for the ten year old. Though we've picked up some epithelial cells from objects they've touched."

"Is that going to be good enough?"

"Depends on what… Dean's tests come back with, doesn't it?"

"Mother?"

"According to the father, dead."

"How?" Lydecker asked coldly.

"House fire."

Lydecker chewed his cheek for a second. "You sure of that?"

"As sure as I can be, without giving the father reason to drag the boy out of here. Do you want that?"

Lydecker shook his head, "No, doctor, I don't want to hinder the process."

* * *

"What do you mean possibly tomorrow?" Dean cried as his father stood in the doorway. "I did the treadmill this morning, I let them take an x-ray yesterday, I've done what they wanted, so why can't I come with you guys? If I stay in, that will be four days in total, Dad"

"Does that mean we can get free take out again?" Sam asked his father.

"Free take out?" Dean asked his brother.

Sam nodded, "Yeah, since you been here, the maid came and even though Dad wouldn't let her in the room, we got free new sheets and the manager gave us cable and we get room service from the Chinese across the street and some man came to talk to Dad – told him where we can get the car detailed and it's supposed to be real cheap, but Dad said he didn't want anyone to touch the Impala because he said he's going to teach you how to fix it."

Dean's eyes went wide, "You're going to teach me how to fix it? You never let me under the hood, Dad. Not with the Impala."

"Letting you loose on some junker at Bobby's yard is different, but we'll talk about that when you get out of here," John replied.

"And I got new clothes and some books and there is a whole load of stuff for you at the motel but if you don't like it can I get the computer or at least get to use it? I promise I won't break it even if it is real small and you can put it in a bag. I'll be careful with it, I promise!" Sammy added, rattling off his plea at high speed.

"What? Computer? What do I want with a computer?" Dean asked turning to his father.

"We'll talk about it later," John said clenching his jaw, not liking the fact that he was basically being bought off with a few trinkets. Not that he had much choice as he had been reminded by the plant security manager who had turned up at the motel that any spotlight brought on the accident would be shone on his family as much as any potential suspect brought in for questioning.

Dean looked at the ground, "So I'm really stuck here 'till they're sure we ain't goin' to cause a stink about how I got hurt?"

"They want to do another ultrasound, Dean," John explained. "Don't worry. Nothing major. As for the other stuff that has nothing to do with it, we'll deal when you get out of here."

"They just want to know when the baby is due," Sammy said quietly with a smirk, causing Dean to respond by pushing his brother, who was sitting beside him off the hospital bed.

"The ultrasound is to see what is happening in my knee, buttface," Dean said as Sam picked himself off the floor. "And it is your fault I'm stuck here, remember?"

Sam bit his lip as he guiltily started to stare at the floor. "I'm sorry."

John looked at his older son, raising an eyebrow, which in turn caused Dean to slump and mutter something under his breath as he turned to his younger brother. "I didn't mean it, Sam."

The ten-year-old Sam Winchester looked up at his brother. "I didn't mean the girl thing either."

"Keep the faith, dude, okay?" John said as he caught sight of the white-haired doctor with the cane he had seen on the first night. He turned to the boys. "Dean, Sam, stay here."

* * *

"Hey!" John said, catching up with the doctor with the silver-tipped cane.

"Yes, Mr. Winchester?" came the reply.

"What the hell is going on?" John asked angrily. "I got told one, two nights he'd be in here and now we are on four."

"I understand you are not happy."

"Understand?" John retorted. "From what I can tell, all you have done is test after test on him. You haven't really treated him apart from give him pills and told him to stay in bed. He could have done that at home. I would have brought him in for ultrasounds if they were needed; but if he's here so I won't make any noise about the son of some asshole, with more money than sense almost killing my kid..."

"Mr. Winchester, I don't want to say anything ill of your son, but if he had been taking the pain killers we have been giving him maybe the inflammation would have gone down quicker and we wouldn't have to repeat some of the tests and that has nothing to do with how he was admitted."

John was confused. "What do you mean he isn't taking the pills?"

Sandeman sighed. "It has come to the attention of some of the nursing staff that your son is not taking the painkillers we are giving him unless you are in the room. To be honest I understand why. He's young, and from what we understand from your family's history is that you have moved from town to town. Obviously staying in some less than savory places."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm not judging you Mr. Winchester. Your son seems a healthy boy for his age and obviously you have done whatever you have had to do to keep him and his brother that way, even if that means drumming into his head not to take anything that could possibly incapacitate him to the point where he is unsure if he should take medication from medical staff when he is alone. Obviously he doesn't know or trust the staff here, especially seeing how we are keeping him here and performing tests on him. If anything, I admire the trust your boy has in your judgement. It is rare to see that in a teenager. I wish my son felt the same way about me."

John took a breath as he calmed down a little. "It can be hard sometimes."

"Yes, it can, although can you please tell me how you managed to achieve having a rebellious teenager while he still seems to trust you?"

"Problems at home?"

The Doctor smiled. "My oldest son, well, let's just say he and I disagree on many, many, many things, though it doesn't help that work keeps me from home a lot more than I would like."

"It'll do that to you and you just hope some day they'll get that you did it for them," John replied knowingly.

"I doubt I will be that lucky, my son is…too strong willed for that. I only hope that one day he'll get to the point where he is able to understand I had to try, even if I know he'll never forgive me," the Doctor said wearily.

John stood there in silence for a second. "So if Dean took his pills, he'd get out of here quicker?"

Sandeman nodded, causing John to turn round and head back to the room.

"Dean, what the hell do they mean you haven't been taking your meds?" John yelled as soon as he got in the door.


	4. Chapter 4

Hello there - hope everybody out there is doing well and still liing this if you are still reading it that is.

Short chapter here - hope it is alright for you, though will give slight warning that there is mention of some the beginning of some shennanigans between teenagers before fading to black thing so nothing graphic involved.

* * *

Dean sulked as he hobbled down the hall after lights out. His dad had given a firm dressing down about taking the pain killers. It wasn't that he didn't trust the doctors. It was just he didn't like taking the things. If he was in pain, he knew something was wrong, then he'd know his limits and it was like Caleb said "The thing to remember when a hunter don't know his limits is twenty miles. Don't matter the direction but make sure you put at least twenty between you and the sorry assed son of a bitch before it hits the fan, kid."

He found the empty hospital room with the TV in it, turned on the TV, and got comfortable on the bed.

"You still around?" came the voice in the doorway.

Dean clenched his jaw in annoyance. "No! I'm one of those things you get in the desert."

"What, a mirage?" she asked.

"Yeah, one of them," Dean said sarcastically.

She walked into the room. "Aren't they supposed to be of things you want to see?"

Dean turned to look at her. "You are the one that said that, sister."

"I'm not your sister," Gracie said curtly as she slammed the door behind her.

"Only in your dreams, Grace," he replied as he propped himself up on his elbows.

"Nightmares is more like it," she said.

"Whatever," Dean retorted.

"Fine. Move, will you, short fry?" she said before she pushed him out of her way so the two of them had space on the bed to get comfortable as they watched the small screen.

"I'm not short!" Dean replied, more than a little affronted.

"Yes, you are," she said smiling. "Don't worry. I'm sure some day you'll reach six-foot-god status even if it does involve you wearing lifts."

"You know, you talking like that really doesn't make me want to let you share this bed," Dean replied.

"Not like you'd have to worry about anything like that," Gracie said as she finally got enough space to allow them to top and tail in the bed.

Dean pouted. "Never had any complaints."

"Secure in your manhood?" Gracie joked.

"Definitely," Dean replied.

"Extensive experience?" Grace asked, turning her head to let her get a look at Dean out the corner of her eye.

Dean put both hands behind his head and smiled. "Coast to coast."

"Love them and leave them, then?" Gracie replied, tongue firmly in her cheek.

Dean grinned. "Wouldn't be fair not to share, would it?"

"Not when you've got so much to give, right?"

"Oh, hell yes!" he said before breaking in to laughter. "Anyway what are you still doing here? Thought you said Adam was going home today."

"Tomorrow now. They're repeating something, but I don't know what."

"Sounds familiar. Same goes for me. Did he have to go through all those bogus tests just for the fun of it like they put me through?"

"If you mean the cognitive tests and extra CT scan, then yeah, but then again, always thought my brother's brains were located in his butt," she said, making a grab for the remote.

"Don't your folks ever wonder where you are?" Dean asked.

She shook her head, "Nope, too worried about Adam to worry about me."

"That blows."

"Nah, it's all right, really," she said. "My mom's pretty freaked since the accident even though it was stupid."

"Well, now he has got a war wound," Dean said.

Gracie continued to look at the screen, "I think the accident just brought up all the stuff my mom had bottled up when he was he in the Gulf."

"Really?"

"Yep, when he was away, especially when he was in the Gulf, she was all calm and composed, but you could tell that she was just holding it all in, especially when the doorbell would ring. So now he's home and gets hurt, she can have a major freak out and no one will think anything less of her. Think Dad is kind of glad she'll finally get it out of her system."

"Sounds complicated."

Gracie shook her head, "Not really, but I'm not in the mood to deal, so that's why I'm taking choice two and boring my brains out watching TV with you."

"Glad I could be the consolation prize," Dean replied.

She turned to glare at him. "You are not exactly a prize."

"You know, if my ego was smaller, what you said might actually hurt," Dean retorted.

"Whatever."

"What about your brother? Is he going to stay at the plant?"

"What business is it of yours?"

Dean shrugged. "Just making conversation. You got a problem with someone trying to show that they might care."

"Right and you're goin' spill about your family?" she said, twisting around to sit up and face him. "Let's not kid ourselves. We are not going to write to each other, we aren't going to be lifelong pals, so let's not do the sentimental let's exchange life stories, here."

"What?" he said, a little shocked. "I'm just curious. That is all. I only asked a question. Wasn't suggesting we get married or anything."

"Really?" she said. "And you didn't spend most of last night staring at my chest?"

Dean smiled wryly. "I hate to break this too you, as I have been told by most of the people I have met in during my enforced stay on this floor. I'm a teenage boy, not legally able to drive or drink, so excuse me if I decide to revert to the cliché. Also you had Dirty Dancing on last night, so if it is a choice between watching that and watching the rise and fall of Old Mother Hubbard's Rack, I'll pick number two any time. So don't think you are special."

She smiled at his statement before licking her lips. "Oh, I'm not, am I?"

Dean narrowed his gaze as she started to move towards him. "Is this the point where I'm supposed to say, _'You're trying to seduce me Mrs. Robinson'?_"

She stopped. "You paid attention during that film. I thought you were asleep."

"It was boring," Dean said with a shrug. "Seriously older, more experienced chick wanting no-strings sex and willing to pay the bills and he goes for her whiny daughter?"

Gracie laughed. "I think you missed the point of that one."

"Seriously, there was a point to that?" Dean asked. "Stupid point, if you ask me."

"So that is your goal in life? To find some older woman to pay the bills?"

"As long as the sex is good, I think I could handle it. Mrs. Robinson."

Gracie raised an eyebrow. "I'm only a couple of years older than you. And you wouldn't know good sex if you fell over it."

"Like you would?" he said sarcastically before she planted one on him.

The kiss was warm, firm, and different than the few he had before from the girls in towns he had passed through before. It wasn't sloppy or unsure, and for one thing, Gracie wasn't waiting for him to decide what was happening next.

He swallowed as he came up for air. "I... I didn't expect you to do that. Not that I didn't like it or anything."

She smiled at him. "Don't sell yourself short Dean."

"But…," he replied as she straddled him pushing him on his back.

"You've never done anything like this before have you?" she asked, seeing the slightly scared look in his eyes.

"Done what?" he said, causing her to raise an eyebrow. "Oh that… Done that. No… Not exactly, not with an actual girl… Not that I'm saying… Oh, you know what I mean…," Dean stuttered, "But…"

She put a finger to his lips. "Look, Dean, you're cute and funny and there is nothing on the boob tube tonight, so let's not over think this. This isn't a great love affair or anything. Just a way to pass the time, a little fun. You could learn something – but if you don't want to?"

With her finger still on his lips, he quickly shook his head, and in a slightly muffled tone, "Didn't say that."

"Good," Gracie said, smiling as she moved in a way that caused Dean's teenage body to suddenly take notice even though his brain still seemed to be stuck doing an impression of a deer caught in the headlights.

"Now listen… Seeing as how you are kind of new at this…," Gracie started to say.

Dean pushed himself up a little on his elbows. "I wouldn't say new."

"Oh, you're so sweet," she said, smiling slightly evilly. "I was just saying that I'll be gentle, but if you don't feel comfortable doing anything, just say stop, okay?"

"If you're sure?"

"As I said, could be a fun way to pass the time in some other way than watching a rerun of COPS," Gracie said, reaching into her jacket pocket. "And don't worry. I'll make sure everything is safe."

Dean nodded as he watched her pull out the foil packet. "But what about you being a 'Little Angel'?"

"Please," Gracie said. "If they only knew half the things that this honor roll student got up to..."

"Right," Dean squeaked as she rubbed her body against his.

"As I said, you say so, we stop," Gracie reiterated as Dean slipped his arm around her pulling her closer to him as his hand worked its way under the back of her shirt. She could see it in his face, although he wasn't too sure of himself, he wasn't going to let her take control.

"So we are on the same page?" she asked.

"You tell me," he said bucking his hips a little.

She started to attack his neck. "Good."

He had gotten both his hands under her shirt and started to work on her bra when she stopped, pushing him back down on the bed.

"You said thank you," Gracie said, keeping one hand on his chest.

"What?" Dean replied, unsure what had happened.

"You said thank you."

Dean swallowed, not sure how to make whatever he had done right. "And that was wrong?"

Gracie sighed, sitting upright while still straddling him. "Look, Dean, let me give you a piece of advice for the future."

"For the future?" Dean asked nervously.

"Yeah, when it comes to a sure thing, don't beg, don't plead, don't apologise unless you have done something really wrong and don't say thank you unless it is to the girl's face and definitely not to her chest unless you are commenting on how good her surgeon is or you know she gets off on it."

"Right," Dean replied, more than a little confused. "What do I say?"

"If you are lucky enough to get to this point again?"

Dean nodded. "What then?"

Gracie sighed, then smiled. "Different girls, different things - you'll work that out, but until then don't say anything, because, trust me, we appreciate actions a hell of a lot louder than words sometimes."

"Okay, actions," he said confused, then deciding to pull Gracie back towards him to let him kiss her causing her to yelp a little in surprise.

"Wait" she said pushing him back down onto the bed. "One more piece of advice, and trust me, any girl you end up with will definitely appreciate this."

"What now?" Dean said slightly huffily, as he wondered if they were ever going to get back to what they were doing, cause seriously, if they weren't, he would have to quickly figure a way of politely pushing her off him so he could get to the bathroom.

"Remember the Bible?"

"The Bible?" Dean replied in surprise, "What the hell has the Bible got to do with this?"

"Remember the rule."

"Rule? What rule? When did a rule come into this?"

As he started to try and free himself from her, she pushed more firmly down on the bed, "The rule. The do unto others rule."

"The do unto others rule?" Dean asked before the realisation spread across his face. "Do unto others as you'd have them do unto you?"

Gracie smiled as she let him up. "That's it. You understand what I'm saying?"

"Wouldn't that be blasphemous?" Dean asked cautiously.

"Only if you're doing it right," Gracie replied as she removed her top, to Dean's obvious delight. "So let's see what else you can learn tonight?"

-----------------------------

Sandeman was getting annoyed. This was the fourth night in a row he was going over this. "Major Lydecker, we have been through every file I have regarding the X-5's potential donors."

"And we'll go through it again until I'm satisfied."

Sandeman rubbed his eyes. "Major, please."

"We are going through this again," Lydecker reiterated, looking through the files.

"She will be in good company."

Lydecker stopped. "What?"

"You didn't think I wouldn't find out the source of the DNA that military sent down to us for testing."

"How?" Lydecker asked before he started to look through the files again. "That has no bearing on it."

"Doesn't it?" Sandeman asked, raising an eyebrow. "The fact that you supplied samples from your wife for this project doesn't affect your feelings at all?"

Lydecker took a breath. "The X-5 series is going to be the culmination of the Manitcore program. I am not going to risk it by having some substandard genetic material getting mistakenly allowed into their DNA database."

"I understand, but as you can see, all the potential donors we have here meet every standard we have set," Sandeman explained before adding sympathetically, "The soldiers produced from her DNA will be the highest quality, and I'm sure any unit that they are in will be made up of Manitcore's best."

Lydecker nodded before his jaw set. "My wife is dead."

"I understand," Sandeman replied as Lydecker got up from the desk and headed for the door.

As he reached for the handle, he stopped, although he didn't turn around. "Promise me you'll look after her; that you'll take special care of what is left of her."

Sandeman nodded, "Of course, if you want I'll personally take charge of any work done on any of those samples you sent us."

Lydecker didn't reply as he left the small office.


	5. Chapter 5

Hello - Last bit from this story.

I know that there should be a gigantic bit where John finds out about Manitcore or he comes face to face with Lydecker but I can't do that as I kind of wrote myself into a hole because in the rest of the stories in my twisted little head, the Winchesters didn't know that Dean's DNA was taken by Manitcore until they met Alec. Also, I put in that there was no obvious Sam clones and hopefully with this chapter I kind of explain why.

So hopefully people are happy with anticlimatic end as this is meant to be a jump of point to the rest, so this point is lots of thinky stuff I suppose.

As for the rest hope you don't mind that all that really happened was Dean got hurt, got told he can work on the Impala and that he 'became a man' so to speak, Sammy got his hands on his first laptop and lots of pudding cups, Lydecker got his wife's samples into the Manticore program and well, Sandeman is now going to get ideas.

* * *

"Dean, you ready to go?" John asked as his son came out of the hospital room bathroom.

"Yes sir," Dean said slightly mournfully as he walked over to the bed to finish packing the last of his things. "But are you sure they don't need to do anything else to me?"

John nodded, "Your knee is fine, no problems. All the tests came back clear finally – helped by the fact that they could see what they were doing this morning since you started taking those damn anti-inflammatories and pain killers. If you'd done that in the first place, you could have been here only one night."

"Okay I get it, being here for so long was partly my fault," Dean said throwing a shirt into the bag.

"So you missed us?" Sam asked.

"Like I had the chance, Sam. You've been here every meal time since I've been here," Dean retorted sarcastically at his little brother.

Sammy grinned. "You swiped any pudding?"

Dean sighed, as he looked at the expression on his brother's face, he stuck his hand in the bag, fishing out a small pudding tub. "Here."

"Thanks!" Sammy said, ripping the top off the container.

"Make it last. I've only got four more," Dean explained, zipping the bag up while John suppressed a chuckle.

"Let's make a move," John said, picking up the bag and gesturing to his boys that it was time to get out the hospital.

As they made their way down the corridor, Dean turned to see her standing at the bottom of the hall smiling at him. He smiled back before she turned and walked away to join a young blonde man with a cane who was only a few years older than her by the elevators.

"Dean, come on. Thought you wanted out of here," John bellowed.

"Yes, sir," Dean said, moving quickly as he could to catch up.

"Damn kids," the old nurse said with a shake of her head as Dean reached the rest of his family, causing Sandeman to look at her quizzically.

"Excuse me?"

"That Winchester boy and the sister of that patient you are so interested in on the fifth floor," she said picking up a file. "Though I never thought a boy like that would be her type, but who can tell these days."

"You've lost me," Doctor Sandeman replied.

The nurse tutted. "Spent last night in Room 494."

"So? Isn't that the room the boy has been using to watch TV in after lights out? Or was that Room 493."

"Like the room number matters?" she replied.

Sandeman swallowed, "I suppose not. But I don't understand the problem if they were just watching Television."

"Not with the door closed they ain't."

Sandeman turned his attention back to the file in front of them. "I'm sure there is nothing to it."

"You think the two of them were playing Parcheesi?" she asked. "Not with the grin that boy had on his face when he went back to his room."

"Isn't she older than him?"

"Heading to college in the fall, too. Early acceptance," the nurse noted. "And I thought that girl's head was on straight, always hitting those books, staying away from those idiot boys at the high school."

"You don't say."

The nurse nodded. "That boy was here four nights, and he got to that girl. How old is he? Fifteen?"

Sandeman nodded.

"I'm glad I'm not that boy's mother, I tell you. If he can turn the head of a girl like that now, what is going to be like when he is older?"

Sandeman chuckled, "I'm sure his father will keep him in line."

"I hope so or he's going to find himself a grand pappy before he gets that other boy of his into high school, she said walking away from the nurse's station as a young doctor came and handed Sandeman a set of test results.

"These from the Winchester boy?" Sandeman asked after looking at them for a few seconds.

The other doctor shook his head. "No, his brother."

"Are you sure?" Sandeman asked. "I thought the samples we had for the brother and the father were contaminated?"

"We got some clean epithelial cells for the younger brother off a pudding cup spoon."

"And you ran them again to be sure?" Sandeman asked.

"Re-ran them, sure. So much we exhausted the sample."

"And the brother, the boy we have, the same?" Sandeman asked.

The doctor handed over another piece of paper. "The genes you were interested in that are dominant in the younger brother are recessive in the older, sir."

"That means the traits we require would be in his offspring and only if the mother was a carrier."

"Sir, you know what this means?" the younger doctor said excitedly. "The younger boy, his DNA, it's immune to the toxin samples. It wouldn't need the genetic manipulation we've been having to factor in to produce units that are immune to the conclave toxin, and there is no sign of conclave history with that family."

"I know," Sandeman said, looking over the test results again, focusing on a small paragraph. "What about this part? This portion – the results aren't making any sense."

"I don't know. The sample was clean as far as I could tell, but this result suggests another form of DNA is present in the boy's system, but it doesn't match anything I have ever seen, not animal or vegetable. If anything I'd say that it has to be operator error."

"Even though you ran the test twice?" Sandeman asked before thinking for a second. "Run it again."

"We can't, sir," the doctor said. "We have no other samples from that boy that haven't been contaminated. Do you want us to get more?"

Sandeman picked up the other set of results, and after reading it for a second, he shook his head. "No the older boy's samples will give us what we need."

"But, sir? I'm sure 'our friends' would be willing to help us in that regard if you asked."

"You cannot be sure that the conclave isn't watching that family."

"Sir, even if they are watching them can we really pass up this opportunity."

"I am not sanctioning anyone snatching those boys from their father, are you hearing me?" Sandeman snapped. "Not yet anyway."

The doctor took a breath, "Sir, I understand your reluctance but if the younger brother is naturally immune without any conclave interference, we could use his DNA as a template…."

"And do you remember the X2's? I was lucky to convince 'our friend's' that that disaster was due to their incompetence when it came to foisting donor samples onto us instead of us using pure conclave DNA. We've run models on what will happen if we incorporate unmanipulated dominant strains into transgenic units – every single one resulted in an 'unsatisfactory' result."

The doctor looked at the floor, "I'm sorry sir."

"The work we have done so far will produce units with qualities we need," Sandeman said with a smile on his face as he looked up the corridor to the series of empty rooms in the paediatric floor. An idea beginning to form in his brain. "As for the older boy's samples, they may still provide useful."

"I don't get you, sir. Are we going use him as the template? We haven't run any models to see how his DNA will work with the traits we are to incorporate, but I can call Gillette and get them started straight away if you want. We can run them in tandem with the work already being done. It might mean you will have two 'special children'."

"No, just the standards protocols for his samples, even if Dean Winchester is going to be our insurance policy."

"Standard protocols but he's our insurance policy?" the doctor asked, confused. "Sir, are you saying we are still going for a single unit as the primary asset, even if we have…."

"No buts. The older Winchester boy, he is recessive in many of the required traits."

"Sir, he isn't immune, his brother is. I know that we can deal with that, but it would be the offspring from the X-5 we produce from those samples that would have the abilities we require and that is only if we have a mother with the right genetic coding."

"I know. Wouldn't that be interesting."

Realisation dawned on the doctor's face. "Oh, you mean instead of trying to produce a male asset, we produce a female one?"

"Our own Messiah and Virgin Mary rolled into one."

"No offence, sir. With what you are talking about, you'd be making her an 'Eve'," the Doctor pointed out. "Especially now you've found your 'Adam'."

Sandeman smiled, "Well, doesn't Genesis state that 'Adam' came first?"

"This world is hardly a garden of Eden," the younger doctor retorted quietly.

Sandeman turned to glare at the younger man. "It is better than the one that will be if we fail."

The younger man clenched his jaw, "You can't be serious about completely changing the direction we were taking because you have this boy's samples, especially seeing as how they won't be used to create the primary asset."

"She'll only be what you described if she'd have to be. The conclave time table isn't set in stone, you know this. The life span of one X-5 might not be long enough."

The doctor nodded. "Yes, sir."

"I don't like this, either, but this is war, and this is a long game. It might take more than one generation until this is over. If we have to breed the X-5's, we breed the X-5's. That would mean the special child or as you would term her 'the primary asset' will need a compatible mate."

"Is that why you didn't comply with the army's request to make them infertile genetically? You want a second generation."

"No, not really. Too much tampering, too many failures. Though thinking on it is a fortunate coincidence."

"But sir, most of the work we have done so far is on male. We'd have to start from scratch on a female – is the military going to let you take one DNA sample to work on it like that? Are you going to risk it exposure on the off chance you've found a compatible mate to an X-5 we haven't created yet?"

Sandeman picked up a file, one of the ones that Lydecker hadn't asked questions about, but only because he knew the answers. "If someone lets me keep a promise, I can."

"Then what? Even if you create a fertile female, are we sure that the male will be fertile too?"

Sandeman nodded. "True, but what were the odds that we'd have that boy's samples?"

"Please don't tell me you are going to ask me to take it on faith that we'll produce units we can harvest ova or sperm from? Let alone viable second generation X-5 units."

"Why not?" Sandeman asked, "Although maybe we can help the odds a little."

"The twinning option?" The doctor ran a hand over his face. "Well the military would find it cost efficient. May even allow us more time if they think they are going to have double the number o f units they were promised."

Sandeman nodded. "You are finally on the same page then."

"Yes, but how can we be sure, sir?" the younger doctor asked. "It might come to the point where the military takes control, prevents us from producing a second generation, or worse, something happens and Manitcore goes down. What then? Take it on faith that they'll survive, that your 'Eve' will find her 'Adam'? Or if they do find each other, that they'll have any idea what they have to do? They'll be growing up in isolation. The military isn't going to be encouraging X series fraternisation if you get my meaning."

"Well, I suppose we can help with that."

"How? You going to make sure she's his type?" the doctor asked.

Sandeman smiled as he picked up two pictures from the files, before handling to the doctor beside him, "If we make a small adjustment here and there we can. Though, those adjustments would just be on a superficial level. Not that I think we will need to do much."

The doctor looked confused as he took the family shot of the family of the plant accident victim who had been staying on the fifth floor as well as the head shot from another potential donor. He took a breath as he began to understand what Sandeman meant. "Sir, you can't be sure that this will work."

"Well, we'll make her realise what is required of her."

"Sir? How? Write it down and pass it as a note to her and hope the military doesn't find it?"

"Let me worry about that," Sandeman said curtly before he started to stare down the corridor in the direction of Room 494 again. "And if she doesn't understand hopefully our boy will take after his donor."

"Sir, you've lost me."

Sandeman turned to face his younger colleague with a grin on his face. "He'll work out how to convince our special girl that it would be worth her while to play a hand or two of Parcheesi."

* * *

A/N Firstly I hope the idea that Sandeman tweeking Max's physical form to make her more to someone else's taste makes it easier to believe that Lydecker wouldn't have recognised her when he bumped into her even though she is basically on a DNA level she is his wife's clone

Also I may think about giving a cookie to anyone who can work out who Gracie's, blonde haired, blue eyed, gulf veteran of an old brother who also happened to have an over active sense of responsiblity might have been used as a templete for. he was housed on the fifth floor you know.


End file.
